About 1/6,000,000,000th of this is about you

We had evoked the listening child in these men, with the only real story anyone has ever told--that the teller has been alive for a certain number of years, and has learned a little in surprising ways in the way the universe delivers truth.

Anne Lamott, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith

Standing in the fog outside the Amasa Stone Chapel on the Case Western Reserve University campus, I was beset with a gnawing concern. I had no worries about the Cleveland Indians home opener taking place blocks away; they were doing fine when I parked the car. No, I was becoming concerned about Anne Lamott’s voice, not her health you understand, but rather how I would respond to it. In the course of reading two of her novels, her book on writing, and two memoirs, I had developed in my head “the Anne Lamott Voice,” a voice that sounded in my head when I read her words. “The Anne Lamott Voice” is a quick moving alto, scratchy with smoke and drink long abandoned, accompanied by sparking, intense eyes. There’s an undertone of frenzy to the voice that probably diminishes as she gets comfortable in a new setting. Having never heard her speak, I’ve had the luxury of never having my fantasy world challenged in any way. In fact, at the moment, the only challenge I’m facing is a parched throat and a pressing need for a restroom.

The hour arrives, and the doors open to admit us into the stately chapel. It is an old building made of large grey stone. The side windows are deeply set clear leaded glass, cross hatched into smallish lights. Flags like medieval guild banners fly from the side pillars, reaching out over the dark stained pews. I notice that the severe pews have no kneelers, cushions, or hymnals. The gothic chapel’s roof skies above us directing attention to an intricate stained glass window above the disused altar. The top half of the window portrays in subdued colors the crucifixion; below is a scene of Mary enthroned, surrounded by the apostles and other saints. The congregation is lit by a series of pan-denominational cylindrical lamps hanging from the high gothic ceiling. The pulpit is off to the right. Centered in the transept are two comfy chairs, a table with flowers. I fully expect the Spanish Inquisition.

Without ado, Lamott appears from a side door dressed in jeans and a casual white shirt, her frizzy dreadlocks tied back with a pink ribbon. The now full chapel and balcony greet her with loud applause which she acknowledges with a lifted hand. She looks exactly like her book jacket photos. As there hasn’t been any speaking yet, the “Anne Lamott voice” remains intact. She takes a seat and grins graciously as Timothy Beal, director of the Baker-Nord Center for the Humanities and Florence Harkness Professor of Religion, blathers on giving thanks to various sponsors and making some metaphorical point about meeting in a decommissioned chapel. After rehashing the theme of CWRU’s Humanities week, “Childhoods,” Lamott is finally allowed to take the stand.

She began by greeting the folks in the balcony, wondering about their welfare and assuring them that they are indeed loved and valued, but exhorting them to get to the venue earlier next time if they wanted to be among those with seats. After a sip of water (to soothe her ravaged throat I imagine), Lamott reads a piece that she “had just now finished.” In fact, it still needed revision, but she wanted to share her process since some of the students present had been reading Bird by Bird. Her piece was about teaching Sunday school. While not perhaps dynamic in a motivational speaker sort of way, she was an animated reader. She seemed a bit bashful about our laughter.

I won’t reveal much about the piece except to say that it was vintage Lamott. The speaker begins a seemingly doable task with great preparation and confidence only to have the train completely run off the rails. After some cross words, an intervention by a dear friend, and a small epiphany, all works out much better than thought possible. In this case, the children actually learned something about a physical and mental state she called “soft body,” a relaxation of the body that not only signals acceptance and comfort but which also allows the body to do more things better. Finding a way to soft body spiritually is difficult but necessary.

After the reading, Lamott moved to the comfy chair where Beal was also sitting. They proceeded to have a “conversation,” which really meant that Beal asked a question or asked Lamott to read something, and then she commented or answered for a while. When the seventh cell phone went off—with a ring tone that sounded like a maniacal madman—she stopped the session for a moment and said, “Let’s all turn off our phones. It’ll be ok, really. I’m not upset, it’s ok. But from this point forward, for each phone that goes off, I’m sending $15 to Bill Frist. Really.” She knew her audience: there was quiet for the rest of the session.

Towards the end of the “conversation,” students and other audience members were encouraged to approach the throne and ask a question. In these interactions, it was a treat to see Lamott respond to each person with unfeigned interest, even though they were asking questions I’m sure she’s been asked hundreds of times before. It was also these interactions that produced many gems. In response to a young writer asking about approaches to revision, she encouraged him to get out of the way of the story and just let the truth out. “The truth is so stunning. There’s so little truth in the popular culture today.”

When asked about what she reads for spiritual inspiration, C.S. Lewis was at the top of her list. I should say that Flannery O’Connor made several appearances throughout the day. When asked about what she’d suggest for kids to read, Lamott got much applause for suggesting that people ask their librarians. “Librarians will get better seats in heaven than most of the rest of us.”

In terms of teaching children to write, Lamott claims that the greatest gift you can give a child is a pen. “If the child is a child of color, they’ll need some paper too,” she added with a smile. But the key, to teaching children to write and to teaching anyone just about anything is attraction not promotion. In recounting her own spiritual journey, it wasn’t any preaching that drew her to the Gospel; she was attracted by the people in a small church.

The Cleveland Plain Dealer ran a profile of Lamott on April 6 written by Evelyn Theiss. Theiss uses words like “refreshing,” “liberal,” “honesty,” “unflinching,” “acerbic,” to describe the author, and Lamott herself uses the word “ferocious.” What is missing from these (marketing friendly?) descriptions, and what was missing from my own version of the “Anne Lamott Voice” is an all-important, over-riding sense of gentleness and caring that is present in Lamott’s tone. Yes, she makes uncomfortable observations and can even be a tad bit cutting in her remarks about certain 21st century presidents, but at no time did you ever feel that she wanted harm to come to anyone. On the contrary, the hour I spent listening to Anne Lamott was one of the most life-giving experiences I’ve had. However negative she may come off, she is always promoting life and growing the people around her. My fantasy Anne Lamott Voice was not shattered at this event. It blossomed.